


One Step Closer

by Featherbelle



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Romance, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 06:24:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1972278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Featherbelle/pseuds/Featherbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan takes his girl to Prom. Heads turn. Logan doesn't give a damn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Step Closer

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up today with the thought of Logan taking his girl to the prom and my LoganMuse would not be denied. I'm sure you Logan fans out there know what that's like. (*cough* lachlanrose *cough*) *wink* 
> 
> The rating is for teen and up because, well, Logan's got a mouth on him, and Rhiannon's picked up some bad habits from him over the years. LOL
> 
> There will, provided my muses cooperate, eventually be two versions of this. The first with my OC, the second with Rogue, for all the Rogan shippers out there. I hope both are liked. Although I feel I should warn you: flames will not be tolerated. Negativity will be met with the business end of the Wolverine’s claws. For pictures depicting Rhiannon's car, hair, dress and corsage, go here: http://www.pinterest.com/featherbelle76/fic-stuffs/

 

The mansion was a busy hive of activity and had been for days. Since the Professor and the other teachers wanted the school to be as ‘normal’ as possible for the students, someone had come up with the idea of a school dance, just like regular schools had for their students from time to time. It was spring now, and Storm had suggested making it a prom for the older students. The others agreed and plans were quickly put into motion.

Storm and Jean had dragooned Scott, Logan and Hank to help with the heavy work. The formal dining room had to be completely cleared of all furniture before any decorating could begin. Then cleaned. Decorations were purchased by the truckload. That is when the men beat a hasty retreat, although the students pitched in in their stead so it was more than an even trade. Logan and Scott couldn’t agree on much, but when it came to hanging streamers and hearts and other such paraphernalia? The both of them fled like rats from a sinking ship to the manly comfort of the garage.

While Logan was working on his bike, he was deep in thought. He may not have been fond of the idea of decorating for a dance, but he wasn’t averse to partaking of the fruits of his hard labor. But he was at a loss for who to ask to the dance. He knew Jean and Scott would be going together, obviously. Hank had asked Storm to accompany him just that morning. He snorted. Asking a girl to a dance? What was he, seventeen? He was drawn suddenly out of his musings by an intoxicating scent. An intriguing mix of roses and leather and… _holy shit!_

He slid out from underneath the bike so fast he fell off the creeper, the momentum sending it flying against the far wall.

Feminine laughter met his ears. He rose to his feet, mock growling at the petite girl with dark hair whose green eyes danced with mirth a few feet away. Logan was frozen in place for just a moment, his eyes confirming what his keen sense of smell had already told him. Rhiannon was wearing one of his shirts.

He wiped his hands on a rag and raised an eyebrow at her. She cocked her head towards the door leading out of the garage and into the mansion. He nodded, and she led the way out onto the mansion grounds and into the sunshine. Logan blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the change in brightness. Quickening his pace a hair, he caught up with her. “So, we can add breaking and entering to your list of talents now, Princess?” he teased her.

Rhiannon snorted. “Your door wasn’t locked. Besides, your room was closer to the gym than mine, and most of my stuff’s still in the wash. And might I remind you, you taught Rogue, Jubes, Kitty and me how to pick a lock years ago. It’s been on my list of talents for a while now, Logan,” she replied, sitting down at the edge of the pool. Slipping off her sandals, she slid her bare feet into the water.

That rocked him back on his heels a bit. And sent his mind places it had no business going. He sat down beside her, that tantalizing mix of their mutual scents making him wonder at his sanity. She’d come to find him for a reason, though, and he was curious. Viciously clamping down on the thought of what curiosity did to the cat, he asked her, “So what’s eatin’ you? You almost never come down to the garage.” He copied her actions, boots set behind him on the grass.

“I had to get away from the girls. I love them, I do, especially Rogue, but damn it all, their constant chatter about the dance and their respective dates is driving me crazy,” she said crossly, kicking the water for emphasis.

His eyes widened as he noticed a single tear fall from her cheek. “You aren’t going?”

Her breath left her in a huff. “Nobody likes being a wallflower, Logan.” She shrugged. “Besides, all the guys are taken. Even if they weren’t, they all think I’m a freak, remember?”

He heard the pain buried in the casualness of her comment, and it made his blood boil. He got a firm grip on the Wolverine’s chains…just barely, though…and nudged her foot with his in the water. “I know someone who doesn’t think you’re a freak, and is in desperate need of a date to this party,” he told her.

Rhiannon looked over at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted in astonishment. He heard her heartbeat pick up and had to fight to keep a grin off his face. “ _You_?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” he retorted.

“That you’re desperate for a date? Yes,” she smirked at him. “You can’t go anywhere without women throwing themselves at you, Logan.” She reached out and laid her hand his arm. “Thanks for not thinking I’m a freak. I swear, I think you’re the only one, other than the girls.” She pulled her feet out of the water and rose to her feet. “Well, I guess I had better borrow a car and go shopping for a dress, then.”

“Want me to take you?” he asked.

She tilted her head in thought. “No…I think I’ll surprise you.” Before he could follow her from the water, she leaned down and kissed his whiskered jaw. “You’re awesome, Logan, you know that?” she whispered before walking away, a lightness in her step he hadn’t seen in days.

In mild shock, he walked over to a bench and sat down to pull his socks and boots back on. He wasn’t in the mood to explain himself to anyone right now. He hurried back to his room and was totally unprepared for the slap to his olfactory senses upon opening the door.

His room was filled with the scent of her. She must have spent quite a few minutes in here, looking for the perfect shirt to pilfer. One that didn’t need washing yet still smelled like him. A sense of smug male pride washed over him at the thought of her _wanting_ wearing his scent. He headed into the bathroom for a shower. He had some shopping of his own to do now.

For the longest time some of the team had thought that Rogue had a crush on him. They were very good friends and shared a deep bond, but nothing more. He couldn’t explain it, but Rhiannon had held a special place in his heart from the moment he’d first seen her. Even his passing fancy for Jean hadn’t diminished his feelings for her. At first, he’d just seen himself as a friend to her, considering she had so few here. Especially once it got out that she was fully human, and had no mutation. That had ostracized her even more, and why she felt so close to Logan and Marie. They were outcasts among outcasts. The Three Musketeers.

But now, what was it he felt for her? He wanted to bang his head against the shower wall in frustration at his sudden confusion. She was seventeen now, almost grown, even though with her petite size, she didn’t look it. He growled as he scrubbed the grime from the bike off his hands. “Fuck it, like I even care what anyone thinks.”

Dressing quickly in clean jeans and a t-shirt, he grabbed his wallet and keys and headed into the city. He was _not_ going to the mall. He knew that was where Rhiannon would be, most likely, and he was not going to start following her like some stalker. She had said she wanted to surprise him, so he’d let her. But then she was in for a surprise herself.

***

Rhiannon was still in shock as she quietly asked the Professor if she could borrow one of the cars to take a trip to the mall. With a smile, Charles passed her the keys to what he called her graduation present. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give it to you a few months early.”  Wheeling out from behind his desk, he escorted her to the garage and a vehicle covered with a tarp in the far corner. He gestured at the vehicle, still smiling. “Go ahead.”

Like a child on Christmas morning, she tore the tarp off to reveal a black Dodge Viper SRT10 with purple racing stripes. Her hands flew to her mouth. “She’s gorgeous! Scott and Logan will be sick,” she laughed joyously. Spinning around, she threw her arms around Charles. “Thank you so much, Professor.”

“Actually, it was Logan who chose this car for you,” the Professor told her. “Logan seems to know you best of everyone here, so I asked him to find you something fitting.”

Her eyes grew as big as dinner plates. “What?”

Charles nodded toward the rear of the car. “Look at the license plate.”

She walked slowly around and her gaze lowered. “He didn’t!” she gasped, torn between tears and laughter. The plate was personalized and read **PRINCESS**. “Professor, you know everyone who sees this will think he bought it for me,” she said, giving in to the laughter.

Charles turned his chair around and headed back towards his office, his final words the equivalent of a lightning strike. “I believe that was his intention.”

She laughed as she got behind the wheel. “Why does that not surprise me?” She was shocked further at the fact that the interior even _smelled_ like him. _What has he been doing, sleeping in this thing?_ she thought with a snort at Logan’s long lean frame being folded in half in order to sleep in such a small car. She opened the glove compartment to reveal the usual assortment of necessities as well as a small CD case with a note attached. _Congratulations, Princess. Always, Logan._ She opened it to find copies of several of her favorite CDs. Sliding one into the stereo, she cranked the volume and pulled out of the garage, her thoughts on what sort of dress to buy that would knock Logan on his ass. He deserved a little payback for the stunt with that license plate.

***

Rhiannon gazed at herself in the mirror. After spending three hours wandering the stores, she’d been about to give up when she’d seen the perfect dress in the window of a store she’d passed on the drive back to the mansion. It was a long A-line, sleeveless with a high neck. The red dress had a black lace overlay with a v-neck open back and a satin sash tied in a bow at her waist. She’d picked up shoes to match the red, and then went promptly to a hairdresser’s to get her hair done. There was no way in hell she was asking the girls for help. They thought she wasn’t going, and she wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.

She’d asked for her hair to be gorgeous. Rhiannon wanted curls in her long hair, and she got what she wanted. Curls framed each side of her face. In the back, some of her hair was pinned up yet enough was left to spill down her back. She had worked meticulously on her makeup, not wanting to spoil her look at the last minute. Glancing at the clock, she saw she had a few minutes yet. Ducking into the bathroom, she lightly dabbed her favorite rose scent on her neck and pressure points. She smiled, remembering his reaction to her scent in the garage earlier.

She had gotten a text from Logan while she was exploring the mall, saying he would pick her up at her room promptly at seven. The sharp taps on her door showed he was right on time. Rhiannon opened the door and forgot to breathe.

Logan was leaning casually against the wall across from her door, slightly sideways. He wore a charcoal grey single breasted suit with a white button down shirt and a white handkerchief peeking from the pocket of the suit jacket. But what really took her breath away was the matching fedora perched on his head at a jaunty angle. He turned his head slightly and grinned at her frank perusal. “Like whatcha see, darlin’?” he drawled.

Without thinking she blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Hell yeah,” making him laugh. He knew her penchant for speaking without thinking embarrassed her sometimes, but it meant she was honest, and he appreciated that about her.

She stepped back into her room for a moment, coming back with her phone. “Do you mind?” she asked him, and he smiled, pulling his own phone from his pocket. “Only if you don’t,” he replied. “And don’t worry. No one will see these but me,” he told her. “Ditto,” she grinned. They took turns snapping a few shots of each other, Logan taking his time to examine her appearance as she’d done with him.

The red underlay of the dress set his blood on fire. The black lace overlay did wicked things to his mind. His hands itched to hold her, starting with her waist encircled by that enticing piece of black satin. And the creamy expanse of her back made the Wolverine snap and snarl inside him.

He held out the wrist corsage he’d gotten her, her favorite white roses wrapped in black, one large one resting against her wrist, and three smaller ones beneath. “Logan,” she breathed. “They’re beautiful,” she said as he slipped it over her hand. “So are you, Princess,” he responded honestly.

Her eyes snapped to his, blazing green fire. “That reminds me…”

“Yeah?” he met her gaze frankly, thinking he had an idea what she was about to light into him for.

She grinned slyly at him. “You have great taste in cars.”

He laughed and held out his arm. “Wanna go shock the hell out of everyone down there?” Her smile was all the answer he needed.

***

They descended the stairs together and for just a moment, she felt like the princess that he always called her. “Logan?” she said nervously.

“Relax, Princess, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“That’s not it. I don’t give a shit what anybody thinks about us together.”

His eyebrow rose and he stopped to gaze at her in incredulity. “You don’t?”

She raised her own eyebrow at him. “Logan, why do you think I get along so well with you and Marie? None of us give a fat damn what anybody thinks of us. Once I grew a thicker skin after those kids made fun of me years ago, I decided no one’s opinion mattered to me anymore. Except yours.”

“Hot damn, baby,” he gasped, shocked at her admission.

“But, do me one favor tonight?” she asked.

“Anything, darlin’, name it and it’s yours,” he said, fingering one of the curls that framed her face.

“Don’t get into a fight with Scott. I have a feeling he and possibly others may say something when we walk in there, and I don’t want this night ruined.”

“I would never ruin this night for you,” he said solemnly, tracing her cheek softly with his finger.

She reached up and grasped the hand at her cheek. “I know, but don’t rise to anyone’s bait, okay? Please? Besides, I think the Professor has an inkling of what our opinion is of each other. If Scott does say something, let’s see what the Professor says or does first, okay?”

He grumbled assent and then held out his arm again, feeling proud to be at her side.

At the doorway of the formal dining room, he glanced down at her. “Last chance to run like hell, baby.”

“No, Logan. Tonight is a dream come true for me, and I’m not going to let anyone ruin this. If anyone doesn’t like it that I’m at the prom with the sexiest man alive, they can just kiss my ass,” she said defiantly, her head held high and her eyes blazing.

He let out the claws on his right hand, the one not holding her, and growled, “Anybody tries that and I’ll kill ‘em, I swear.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” she asked, and the Wolverine in him howled in anticipation of her nearness all night.

***

She breathed a sigh of relief as they walked into the darkened room. Logan leaned down and asked, “May I have this dance, darlin’?”

“You can have ‘em all, handsome,” she grinned back at him.

Logan wasted no time in whirling her out onto the dance floor. It was the middle of the song, he had no clue what it was and didn’t care. One hand rested at her waist, his thumb rubbing that satin sash, and the other arm wrapped around her body, his big hand splayed across her bare back.

Rhiannon couldn’t believe this was actually happening. She nestled close to Logan, her arms curled against his back, her cheek resting against his heart. They swayed back and forth in time with the song until another one began. The slow piano and cello intro made her gasp. “I love this song,” she said, and Logan smiled down at her as he moved with her to “A Thousand Years” by Christina Perri.

Logan was struck dumb by how the words of the song seemed to fit the two of them. He had known for some time now how Rhiannon felt about him, and it had taken him a while to get used to the thought that someone loved him…for himself, and to the depths that she did. It had also taken him a while to realize that he loved her too, and that it was okay to love her. She didn’t care that he had almost no clue about his past beyond twenty-some years ago. She didn’t care about any of the things that he thought made him an animal. She thought his enhanced senses were cool, except for when she got busted by them. Giggling with her girlfriends a little too late at night. The booze on her breath when she’d gone out with those same girls for her birthday last year. She didn’t care about his claws, either. She thought they were beautiful. He’d wanted to take her to Hank to get her head examined when she’d told him that, but she’d just laughed and said, “I’ll show you, one of these days.” He’d often wondered what she’d meant by that.

Another song came on, one with a faster tempo, and Rhiannon made a sound from within his arms that was a cross between a groan and a giggle. “What?”

“Someone really needs to haul Jubes away from the stereo,” she laughed. “Two songs in a row from the _Twilight_ soundtracks?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Don’t you own those?”

“Yeah, and I do like a lot of the songs but… _in a row_?” He guided her effortlessly through the throng with a hand at the small of her back towards the refreshments table. He felt her body shudder. “If “Supermassive Black Hole” starts playing, we are leaving,” she laughed. “Damn good workout song, but not for a school dance.” Logan just nodded. He didn’t really care if they played the Hokey Pokey song as long as he got to have his hands on her.

He waited until she’d swallowed the punch in her hand before he let her know what was coming. "Scott and Jeannie are comin’ this way, and Scott smells pissed,” he warned her.

She set the cup down, then poured some punch for him. When she looked at him, again he saw green fire in her eyes. “So? Not our fault if those two had a lovers’ spat already,” she shrugged.

Marie walked over to greet her friends, Bobby in tow. “Girl, you look fabulous!”

“Thanks, Marie, you look great too,” Rhiannon replied, and it was true. The green dress looked great on Rogue, and it had a thin gauzy wrap that worked perfectly to enable her to touch and be touched without worry for one night. Rhiannon leaned in and gave her friend a hug. “Shit’s about to get real,” she whispered to Marie. Marie grinned at her. “You know I got your back, sugar,” she promised with a wink.

“Logan, Rhiannon, we weren’t expecting to see you here,” Scott said, his eyes boring holes in Logan through his ruby-lensed Oakleys, his tone on the barest edge of civility. They all knew Scott left the word ‘together’ off on purpose, but it hung in the air anyway.

Jean put her hand on Scott’s arm, trying to calm him. The Professor came over, intending to say hello to everyone, Storm and Hank following him, intending the same, but when he heard the tone to Scott’s voice, he felt he had to intervene. “This dance was open to everyone, Scott,” Charles said softly, but his meaning was clear.

“I believe Logan and Rhiannon make a charming looking couple,” Hank said, trying to put everyone at ease.

Scott’s jaw clenched. “First Rogue, now Rhiannon? Are Jubilee and Kitty next?”

Storm and Jean both snapped at Scott. Rhiannon had her hand on Logan’s arm and she could feel him tensing, wanting to release his claws. “Hey…you promised, remember?” she whispered, knowing he’d hear. She took her hand off his arm, slipped her phone from his pocket and headed purposefully towards where Jubilee and Kitty stood with their dates, John Allerdyce and Piotr Rasputin. “I, however, made no such promises whatso-friggin-ever,” she said with a saucy grin.

“Jubes, babe, hook me up,” she said, brandishing her phone.

“Details, first,” Jubilee demanded. “What’s going on over there at the punch bowl?”

“Oh, nothing. Scott’s usual big-brother-on-steroids-mixed-with-crack bullshit,” she shrugged.

“Wolvie looked like he was about to pop claw,” Jubilee commented.

“He would have, I think, if I hadn’t made him promise not to,” Rhiannon replied.

“What’d Scott say that made him that angry?” Kitty asked.

Just the memory of Scott’s words made Rhiannon’s blood boil. “He said he didn’t expect to see us here, implied ‘together’ but didn’t say it, then he had the fucking balls to say ‘first Rogue, now me, what were you two next’.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Jubilee asked, knowing her hot-tempered friend was up to something.

“This,” Rhiannon grinned mischievously, plugging her phone into the stereo system, and picking a song that totally fit how she felt at the moment.

She spun on her three-inch heels and noticed the floor had cleared in anticipation of a fight between Cyclops and Wolverine, and the students were gathered around the edges, still waiting to see what would happen. She grinned wickedly. It was perfect. She stalked back towards the opening in the floor as “Everybody’s Talkin’ My Baby Down” by Celine Dion began to play, moving in time with the music. Stopping in the middle of the floor, she crooked a finger at Logan. Loud whistles and cheers from her friends followed Logan’s steps when she called to him, “Hey, Wolverine, ya gonna come dance with your girl, or what?”

***

Hours later, they were alone in Logan’s room, swaying to music only they could hear. His rumbling chuckle made her look up from where her head rested on his chest. “What?”

“That was… _amazing_ …what you did,” he said, still chuckling. “You got some serious nerve, baby.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sick of Scott’s shit, okay? If I had walked in there with anybody else…Pyro, Colossus, Bobby, hell, even Hank or the Professor, he wouldn’t have opened his mouth. I told Jubes and Kitty that it was Scott’s usual big-brother-from-hell bullshit, but it’s not. At least, not all of it.”

“What do you think it is, then?” he asked her.

“When the hell is he going to get over the fact that you had the hots for Jean? I mean, for fuck’s sakes…I got over it ages ago,” she grumbled, clenching and unclenching one fist as if she wanted to put it through the nearest wall. Logan noticed what she was doing and forced her to open her hand, then held it in his.

“You did?” His mouth fell open.

“Yeah, I did. It was a crush, a helluva intense one, but a crush, plain and simple,” she said.

“What about now?” he asked, pulling her back into his arms.

“ _What_ about now?” she replied, confused as to what he was asking.

“What do you think I feel for you?” he asked her, his tone of voice making her shiver. He felt it and smiled. “Do you think I have a helluva crush on you?”

One corner of her mouth lifted. “I sure as hell hope so, after the stunt I pulled tonight,” she laughed.

“Oh, no, darlin’,” he purred. “It’s more than that. So much more.”


End file.
